Keeping up the Façade
by LaurenEP18
Summary: After the death of his father, Sam is struggling to keep himself from cutting again. With Bobby out of the loop and Dean struggling to cope, who's going to keep him from starting again? What will happen with a new revelation in Sam's life? Sequel to my other story 'Never Going to be Okay'. You don't have to read that one first, though. Warnings: self-harm and language. *On Hiatus*
1. Chapter 1

**This is the sequel to my other story 'Never Going to be Okay'. You don't have to read that one first, but it would make more sense if you did. Anyways… Enjoy!**

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"Time of death, 10:41am." The walls that stood precariously around Sam's fragile mind crumbled at those few words. John Winchester. His _dad_…was dead.

Sam felt his brother slightly shaking. He'd just woken up not that long ago from a coma that kept Dean trapped in limbo, fighting for his life against a reaper. He knew how much Dean idolized their father and knew how hard this was going to be on him especially. Sam could feel the loss beginning to cripple him. The familiar tug in his chest pulled him from his daze.

"Sammy?" Dean was watching him closely. "Sam, help me back to my room… I-I can't be here." His breathing was ragged and coming out in short pants. Sam started to nod, keeping his eyes on his father's lifeless form. "_Sam._"

Sam shook his head as if to banish the image from his mind. "Y-yeah. Yeah, come on." He whipped his head harshly from the scene before him and assisted his limping older brother back to his room.

Dean was just lying back when he spoke again. "Call Bobby. We need to take care of…" He sighed deeply. "Sam, we need to get his body out of here. Also, our insurance won't hold out for much longer so…" Sam saw him clench his jaw and stare down at his hands. "_Just_, call Bobby." His voice was barely audible, but it held as much pain as Sam felt. Sam bit his lip and backed out of the doorway.

Quickly dialing the familiar number, he waited for Bobby to pick up the phone. After two rings, the gruff voice he knew so well answered. "Sam? Did your daddy try to summon that damn demon? I got the Impala back here so…" He trailed off as Sam's breath hitched. "Are you alright son? Is Dean okay?" His voice transformed from irritated to worried in an instant.

Sam clenched his eyes shut and slid down to the cool tile floor outside Dean's room. He took a couple of deep breaths before answering. "Dad's _dead._" The words didn't seem right coming out. He knew the truth behind them, but it didn't make the statement seem any more real.

There was silence coming from the other line and then a loud jingling of keys as a door slammed shut. "Is Dean-?"

"Dean recovered… _miraculously._"

"Damn it. You don't think he…?"

"Yeah, Bobby. I think he made a deal." That was the only explanation he could come up with for his father's sudden death. Apparently Bobby had the same notion so he knew he couldn't be so far off. He just hoped Dean didn't make the same assumption. It was bad enough that their dad was gone; he didn't need to live with that guilt. "We need to get his… _body_" Sam still had trouble thinking that, "out of here so we can give him a hunter's funeral."

The sound of tires screeching made Sam pull the cell phone away from his ear. "Alright. You sit tight, I'm on my way there right now." The line cut off. He kept the phone to his ear so that no one would bother him. Sam stared at his boots through the chocolate fringe of his bangs, pulling in shaky breaths. His palm was slick with sweat causing the phone to slip from his grasp clattering loudly to the bleached floors. He placed his head in his hands with his fingertips touching, waiting for Bobby to show. What he needed at that moment was something he hasn't felt the need for in a long time. Sam longed to feel the cool blade pulling across his skin. He needed to feel the sharp twinge of pain to cut through this emotional turmoil he was wrapped in

Every muscle in his body screamed at him to snatch his pocketknife. It took more self-control than he thought he possessed to be able to stay where he was on the too clean hospital floor. The fumes from the cleaning solution mopped onto the floor made his eyes burn. It combined with the latent tears that had begun pooling against his lashes in the past few minutes since Bobby hung up the phone. _He saved me… Why couldn't I save him?_

Before he could register where his feet were taking him, Sam found himself standing in the doorway to his father's room. His eyes danced around the room, searching for his father. Expecting to see him standing and smiling back at him. Longing to hear his voice telling him that everything would be fine. The tears that he'd managed to keep at bay spilled over and rushed down his hot cheeks.

A nurse was fitting the bed with new sheets when she suddenly glanced up. She held such pity in her eyes that it made Sam sick. This wasn't supposed to be happening. It was supposed to be the three of them against the world. Somehow, Sam had come to think of his dad as immortal. He knew it was irrational to think so considering their line of work. Every time his father ever went out on a job and left him and Dean alone in some motel, he used to be scared that he'd never see him again. After a while, Sam just _knew_ that his father would always come back. And now… Now his dad was not going to be able to come back.

The emptiness of the room echoed the hollowness Sam felt. He spun around and made his way through the crowded halls, his blurry eyes making the process much more difficult. Finally he made it to Dean's room. Sam knocked on the door. He wasn't sure why he did it, but everything was fucked up that day.

"Come on in, Sam." Dean's husky voice sounded from the opposite side of the room than where Sam was expecting. He opened the door just enough for him to fit his frame through and then shut it silently. Dean was buckling his jeans and slowly walking to his duffle to grab a shirt. "You call Bobby?" His voice was hard and emotionless. Sam knew that Dean would be swallowing his feelings down, so he didn't push anything. He'd let Dean deal with it his way for once.

"He's on his way." Sam's voice felt so small. So light compared to the business like tone of his brother.

"I'm already here." Bobby vocalized his presence. Dean didn't seem to be shocked so he assumed he saw Bobby enter. "Everything's taken care of… I'm about to head back. I called you boys a cab so it should be here any minute." He walked over and placed a hand on each brother's shoulder. "I gave 'em my address. Said you'd need to be dropped off there… I'm sorry about your dad. He was a hell of a man…" He half smiled and pulled them into an awkward three-person hug then made his way out.

Sam stood with his arms hanging listless by his sides, eyes still in the doorway. He finally forced his body to move and he turned to see Dean trying to pick up his duffle. Sam silently walked over and shouldered his bag and picked up his own and began to make his way to the hall. Dean followed quietly by his side, neither brother knowing what to say.

Neither of them spoke until they reached Bobby's house. The only word Sam heard out of Dean was when he said, "Here." When they arrived at Bobby's and he handed the cab driver a twenty. Though he knew Dean was still hurt from the car accident that landed them in the hospital in the first place, he was the first to enter Bobby's house with no assistance from Sam. He went straight to their shared room and slammed the door. Sam trudged inside holding both their duffle bags and laid them heavily on the floor outside their door. He didn't join his brother in their room. Instead, he lingered outside their room, not sure of what he was going to do next. Sam knew that he needed to keep his mind busy. To think of anything else to keep his mind from wandering to what he knew would help and hurt him at the same time.

Before his dad and Dean found out about what Sam had been doing, when he'd feel like this he would go to his favorite blade. Sam would carve his emotions into his skin, releasing them through his blood. He found himself visualizing the motions and his fingers began tracing the scars that marred his wrist. His eyelids sprung open and he sprinted down the stairs, searching for a distraction. _Bobby._ "Bobby?" He called.

"Get your brother." Bobby spoke as he rounded the corner from the kitchen. "It's nearly dark and we need to… I have everything set up outside." He plastered on a sad smile and made his way back into the kitchen.

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Bobby watched out the window at the two boys he'd come to think of as sons watching the pyre of their father. John had been a good friend of his for years. He'd always watch after his boys if he needed to go on a hunt. Now that he's gone, it was his responsibility to watch them again. "Don't worry, Johnny… I'll take care of them." He vowed to the empty room. The fire died down after a while. He noticed the two young men walking back to the house, their heads hung low. At the sound of the door creaking open, Bobby called out to them. "I know you probably don't feel much like eating… But I made some dinner." He sat at his normal spot at the table, throwing a chip into his mouth.

Sam was the first to join him. He sat in front of his plate and glumly picked at the crust on his sandwich. Dean hovered in the archway, seeming to decide whether or not he was going to stay. He sighed and walked in, pulling out his chair and plopping down. He dug into the sandwich like it was his first meal in a long time. Bobby figured that he never ate at the hospital and since he'd been out for a day or so… Bobby rolled his eyes at the older boy trying to take a swig of his soda with a mouth full of sandwich.

Usually, Sam would make some sort of snarky comment to Dean about his eating habits… Sam did not lift his eyes from his plate. His food was being slowly pulverized by his pale fingers. "You need to eat something, Sammy." Dean finally spoke after he was able to swallow. Sam peered up at his brother; his thoughts seemed to be far away at the moment. Bobby just stood and picked up Sam's plate replacing it with his own. "Here, eat mine." Bobby threw the crumbled up sandwich into the trash and grabbed himself a beer. Dean stood and tossed his plate in the sink before trudging up the steps to their room. This time, he didn't hear the walls reverberating from the slamming of the door. He didn't even hear the door close at all.

He leaned against the counter and peered over at Sam who was now nibbling on the corners of the ham and cheese sandwich. Bobby rubbed a hand through his beard and then took a gulp of his beer. He knew that it'd take time for the boys to be alright, but he wouldn't give up on them. He loved them like they were his own and it pained him to see them this way. Sam scooted away from the table and mumbled a quick thanks before quietly heading up the stairs to his and Dean's room.

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**I hope you liked it! Sorry it's been a long time coming. I've just been on a slight writing hiatus. Again, if you haven't read my other story 'Never Going to be Okay', you should read that one first. It's not necessary, but it'll help. Please rate!**


	2. Chapter 2

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The door to their room was left wide open. That was unusual since Dean couldn't sleep with _any _light whatsoever. He peered into the room nervously. Sam wasn't sure why he felt so strange around his brother all of the sudden. He spotted Dean lying on his back on his bed, staring pensively at the ceiling.

"Hey." He said lamely. Dean looked up, slightly startled. Recognition washed over his face as he laid his head back down once again.

"I… um…" _I need to talk to someone. I'm afraid I'll do something stupid. Please help me? _

"Hmm?" Dean mumbled, already half asleep. The words he needed to speak were at the tip of his tongue. Whenever he'd feel the need to… as much as he hated saying the fraise '_cut himself'_, he was able to go talk to his brother. It took some time to build up the trust with his father. But that didn't matter now. His dad was gone.

"It's nothing… nothing." Sam turned on his heel and headed for the shared bathroom. He could hear Bobby fussing at something on the TV so he took this opportunity.

_This is wrong. I need to go get Dean, ask for his help… No. I can't do that to him. He's already going through too much as it is… I can't dump my weakness on top of it all. I'm a big boy; I can take care of myself._ Sam knew the implications of the decision he was making. He knew that his brother would flip if he knew what Sam was about to do. That is why he would have to keep it a secret, just as he did not so long ago. Sam would keep up his façade of being okay, even though he knew that he was far from it.

His hands were slightly shaking as he grasped the razor from the cabinet and held it in the light. Sam sat on the edge of the tub, watching the blade's glint. He set the edge against the pale skin of his arm, he let it linger there, anticipation rising in his chest. Feeling like a drug addict needing his next hit, Sam slowly dragged the razor across the tender flesh. It bit into his skin easily, drawing rich crimson to the surface.

"Sammy?" Dean's voice was low and worn. "Hey, Sam?" His eyes bulged out of their sockets as Sam rushed to the toilet and flushed.

"T-two seconds." He willed himself not to stutter too much as he rinsed his arm under the tap. He wasn't able to indulge in the bitter sweet sting as the water washed over the newest addition to his collection. Sam rolled the sleeve of his shirt down hastily and slowly opened the door. Dean was watching him studiously, his deep green eyes darkening a shade.

"You good?" Dean asked. The statement seemed so ordinary and yet it held so much more meaning in it. That is what Dean used to ask Sam whenever he thought Sam wanted to harm himself. To hear it from him now made him feel a little guilty… Now that he'd gotten a taste of it, he knew that it would be near impossible to stop without Dean. He knew this and still, Sam lied through his teeth.

"I'm good." Sam pulled one side of his mouth up in a cockeyed smile. Dean didn't seem too convinced.

"I know that after what happened-" Dean began. Sam knew that if they started to have a heart to heart he would spill. He didn't want to let Dean in on his betrayal, though he kept digging himself deeper and deeper into a pit of deception.

"_Whoa._ Are you _initiating _a chick-flick moment?" Sam raised one eyebrow in artificial shock. Dean let out a soft chuckle. Sam had just dodged a bullet. Thank God for his easy deflection skills.

"Shut up, bitch. I just wanted to make sure you got your ass to bed soon. You get quite cranky when you don't get your beauty sleep, princess." Dean nudged his shoulder.

Sam rolled his eyes lightly and made his way to their room, careful to keep his wrist in front of his body. "Come on, hobbit. Stop being a jerk and let's get you back to the Shire."

"Just because you're a giant Sasquatch doesn't make me a midget. You're just abnormally large…" Dean muttered from behind Sam's large frame. A hand came to rest on Sam's shoulder, causing him to turn around.

Dean had no sign of humor in his eyes. "In all seriousness… I know that you might think that I need time after what happened. I _do_. _But_ that doesn't mean I'm not here to help you. You know that, right?"

Sam's throat clenched. Unsure of how his voice would sound, he opted for just nodding his head. The brothers went into their room and lay in their beds. After about an hour, Sam could tell by Dean's breathing he was still awake. Sam's whole body was exhausted but his mind wouldn't let him sleep. It was like the whole scene of seeing his father, lying motionless on the hospital floor replayed over and over again every time his eyes closed.

He threw off his sheets and sauntered downstairs. He could sense Dean behind him, but he did not turn. "Seeing as though you're following me," Sam started as he grabbed two beers from the fridge. "I take it you can't sleep either." He popped both beers open and turned around.

The beers slid from his fingers and crashed onto the linoleum. He blinked once, twice, he was still there. His dad sat at his normal seat, arms crossed and eyes on Sam. "Dad?" Once the word left his mouth, his father's eyes flashed black.

"Well, you could say that. I _used_ to be your daddy… Now I'm something much more. I'm a demon now, Sam. And it's all _your_ fault." Sam took several shaky steps back until his heels hit the wall.

"**_DEAN! BOBBY!_**" Sam cried out.

"They aren't gonna bother helping you, Sam. They know the truth about you. If it weren't for you, we wouldn't have gotten into that wreck. You should have killed the yellow-eyed demon when you had the chance. My death could have _meant_ something." Sam kept calling for his brother. "Just think about that." His demon dad smirked and then snapped his fingers.

Dean and Bobby were standing over him, pinning his flailing limbs to the bed. As soon as the scene came into view, he let his body go limp. "What the fuck, Sam? Was that a vision, or…?" Dean started.

"D-dream. No… _Nightmare_. Not a vision." Sam spoke in a staccato. His eyes bounced around the room until they landed on Dean. Sam suddenly felt the need to escape. He knew that it was just a nightmare, but everything he said was true. Sam had been thinking it for a long time. Everything that happened was his fault. Dean must have seen the desperation in Sam's eyes because he immediately let go of him. Sam wiggled out of Bobby's grasp and went downstairs. Finally alone, Sam allowed himself to let the front down. He crumbled down onto the couch as sobs racked his entire body.

Seeing his father again…as a demon was too much. He heard someone coming towards him so he gathered what strength he had and tried to pull himself together. "Come on." Bobby's voice was so soft, barely a whisper. He helped Sam up and back to the room he'd just escaped. He heard a faint sniffing noise coming from the bathroom, but did not think on it further. Sam flopped heavily on his bed while Bobby pulled the covers over his body. He felt the bed depress where Bobby sat. The world began to dim as he was ushered off into nothingness. Just the way he liked.

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**Short chapter, I know. I hope you liked it anyway. Please rate! **


	3. Chapter 3

_**Revolving. **_

The world kept _revolving_ around Sam, and he yearned for the power to stop it in its tracks. To grab hold of the giant orb and spin it back. To turn back time to before his father left to go hand off the Colt to Meg. Hell, he'd want to turn it back enough to save Jess…or to save his mother… So many mistakes in his life, all of them his fault. No matter how many times a person tells you something, it will fall on deaf ears if it is not believed. Sam knew that if he had never been born, so many things would have been different… They would have been _better_. His mother was murdered trying to save Sam, Jess died just because she was in close proximity to him. Evil followed him around like a leech, sucking away anything good in his life and gathering it away in it's engorged belly. Sam would give anything to rewind time and yet, the earth kept on _revolving._

Sam peered through sleep-hazed eyes at the ceiling as he swept his tongue across his dry lips. He was parched. He made an attempt at dragging himself from bed only to find himself saddled between two men. Sam huffed out a sigh and rolled his eyes. As silently as he was capable of, Sam maneuvered his way out of the covers and over to his duffle bag. He swiftly plucked his cell phone out of his bag and took a shot of the two older men who'd rolled toward the middle of the bed in Sam's absence. Sam let out a half-hearted chuckle. _Blackmail. _He thought as he sent a copy to each of his many email addresses.

He _had_ to show someone else this. It was priceless. Sam, still smiling, walked down the hall to where his father's guest room was. About halfway there he froze midstride. His dad would not be in his room. His dad wasn't here. Realization hit him like a swift jab to the gut. The breath whooshed out of him and he was left on shaky limbs that should only belong on a newborn colt. The images of his father lying on the hospital floor invaded his thoughts, plaguing him with the guilt of not reaching him sooner. Of not knowing what his father was planning.

"Damn it, Dad." Sam spoke under his breath. "Why did you have to leave? Dean needs you… _I _need you.' Tears accumulated behind his closed lids and he wiped them away hastily. He refused to be weak. Sam would not let himself cry for the man. He was being selfish for what he did. Dean would have found a way to escape the reaper. Now he left them alone to fight this war… Well, not _completely_ alone. They would always have Bobby. He wasn't sure what they'd do without him. Bobby was always like a father to them and now that their dad was gone, Sam was sure he'd step up to the plate to help the two orphan brothers.

Bobby walked out of the room with a slight reddish tint to his cheeks. He was clearly embarrassed as he rubbed the back of his neck and gave a half smile. "Uh, hey. About that, ya see… Honestly, I have no idea when I passed out. All I remember is walking back with you to y'alls room and sitting on the side of the bed and then it all goes blank." Sam had to stifle a snicker as he remembered the picture he had which was currently burning a whole in his back pocket. "What?" Bobby questioned as he saw Sam bite down hard on his lower lip. Sam reached back and pulled out his cell, holding the picture up far enough away that Bobby wouldn't be able to swat it out of his hand. The red glow that painted his cheeks engulfed his entire face. "Samuel Winchester! So help me if you do not delete that off your damn phone I'll ring your neck, boy!"

Dean stumbled out of their room after Bobby's explosion with a confused glare. "What the hell? I was tryin' to sleep!"

"You should ask your 'soon to be road kill' brother what's going on!" Yeah… Bobby was pretty angry. Sam held up his phone to Dean who snatched it from his grasp.

"_Dean._" Sam whined. He knew that Dean wouldn't just delete the picture, he would crush his phone. And that is exactly what happened. His brother took a closer look then smashed his cell onto the ground. "Jerk."

"Let's go eat, bitch. I'm starving." Dean's stomach began to growl as he kicked Sam's useless phone back to him and headed downstairs. The normal banter seemed too forced on his end. Sam wasn't left with much time to contemplate the feeling as Bobby smacked him upside his head.

"Don't you forget, I've been around longer than you. I have _plenty_ of blackmail on both you boys." He raised one eyebrow, challenging Sam to try to use the picture against him. Unlike Dean, Bobby must have figured Sam sent the picture somewhere for safekeeping.

"I hear you." Sam succumbed as Bobby smiled and patted his shoulder.

"_Bobby_, there are no clean dishes _anywhere!_" Dean hollered from the kitchen.

Bobby let out an exasperated sigh as he headed down the steps yelling back to Dean on the way down. "Do I look like a damn maid to you? Excuse me while I fetch my feather duster." Sarcasm dripping from each word. Before he turned the corner, he looked back up the steps at Sam. "You coming, kid?"

"I'll be down in a minute." Sam escaped into the bathroom. Gripping his salvation in the palm on his hand. _One._ He'd only allow himself one cut, just to get through the morning with Dean and Bobby. After that, he'd stop for good. Sam held the razor just above the last shallow cut and pushed the blade down. He did not pull it across his skin. He watched as the blood percolated from the wound and trickled off the side of his wrist. Sam was about to bring the edge down a second time when he remembered that he was going to stop. He was only allowing himself this one last time and then it was sayonara to the blade. It took all the strength he had to replace the blade to it's hiding spot and clean himself up.

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"Where is it?" Dean chirped excitedly.

"Where's what?" Sam entered the kitchen and took a seat across from his brother.

"Bobby says he's got a hunt for us." Dean smirked. Sam grimaced.

Bobby noticed this as he chimed in. "It's some low rate demon. I don't think you two will have anything to worry about. She just makes people-"

"-Who _cares_ what she does!" Dean cut in impatiently. "Just tell us where to go gank her and then we'll be back by dinner time."

"It's over near Pasley Park. Her name's Corra and she's usually at the Chancley Motel. "

"Well, lets get going!" His brother was jumping out of his seat shoving the rest of his doughnut into his mouth.

Sam pursed his lips. "Don't you think we should get some more information before we head out?"

"What more information do we need? We'll go stay at Chancley, find this Corra bitch and exorcise her." Dean seemed genuinely confused as to why Sam believed it was so important to get more details before they left. Sam turned to Bobby.

"Basically, what he said. It's not anything new for you boys. I just though maybe you'd want an easy hunt just to get your feet wet again." Bobby stood and started clearing the table.

Sam figured he would just go along with it. He headed upstairs to take a shower before grabbing his belongings and stuffing them into one of the working cars Bobby had on his lot. Dean was already in the drivers seat tapping his fingers rhythmically on the wheel. "Ready?"

"Let's get this over with." Sam spoke sullenly. He didn't feel like hunting and he just wanted to go back to sleep.

"Don't be like that." Dean scolded. "This is our _job_, Sam. Just 'cause Dad's gone it doesn't mean people don't need saving." And with that, he flicked on the radio. Efficiently cutting off any rebuttal on Sam's end. This was going to be a long ride…

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**The next chapter is the hunt! This story isn't going to be as long as my other ones, so I hope you still enjoy. I love reading your reviews, so keep them coming!**


	4. Chapter 4

Sam kept his head pressed against the window with his arms wrapped around his midsection as if to hold himself together.

"Move your head, bump." Dean cautioned. Along the side of the road, the roots of nearby trees had brought the asphalt up into a mound. Sam didn't even flinch as his head collided with the glass once they had passed the obstacle. Hearing the crack of Sam's head, his brother almost swerved the car into the oncoming traffic. "I _told_ you to move your damn head, Sammy." Clearly irritated, Dean whipped the car over to the side of the road. "_Sam._ Are you gonna answer me or did that knock to your head give you brain damage?" Sam blinked his eyes over to his brother. He just didn't feel like arguing with him. "Sam?" Dean spoke in a lower voice now.

"Sorry. Wasn't paying attention." And in truth, he really wasn't. Sam's mind was almost blank as he let the vibrations of the car numb his body. "Are we almost there?" Dean just stared directly into his eyes with such intensity it caused Sam to squirm in his seat. "Dean?" Dean turned his face back to the road, his body rigid. Without another word, he put the car in drive and started back on the road again. They arrived at the motel about five minutes later.

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She could sense his pain. His anguish tasted so delectable on her palate. Whoever this person was, she knew that she would savor watching him fall apart in front of her eyes. Corra blinked as her eyes turned black. _Hunters._ She was not counting on that. She ripped her nametag off and stowed it away under the counter as two gorgeous young men entered her playpen. Each looked down in the dumps, so she had to try to decipher which man was going to be her target. The older one came up and plastered on a cocky smile.

"Hey…" His eyes scanned for a nametag a bit too long.

Corra pursed her lips and raised an eyebrow. "I hope you're looking for a nametag. The name's Alexandria." She set a flirtatious hand on his. "And you are?"

The man cleared his throat. "Well, I'm Dean." He gestured to the younger man behind him. "That's my brother, Sam." She eyed him up and down appraisingly. Clearly he was the one she wanted. The younger man had a deep grey aura emanating from his chest. Using her heightened senses, she noted the scars decorating his wrists. Suicidal tendencies assisted her greatly as she got her victims to kill themselves. General depression would be enough, but she could not wait to sink her teeth into this one.

"Why so blue, Sam?" Dean seemed to pout at where Corra was placing her attention. The young man kept his eyes downcast. She shrugged and acted as if she did not care.

Dean moved his frame between her and Sam. "One room, two beds for two nights."

"Alrighty." Corra speedily typed into the computer and grabbed the boys a set of keys.

"Excuse me?" Dean asked as Corra turned to see the other man, Sam, had left. "Do you by any chance know when Corra will be here? We're relatives and wanted to see her." Dean lied smoothly. Corra grinned up at him.

"I'm sorry, she quit a few days ago. I thought you'd know that since you're relatives…" She pinned him in the lie. He sputtered a bit until he recovered.

"We've been on the road and our cell phones are dead. No car charger either. Well, thanks." He made his escape out the door.

"No thank _you_ for bringing your brother here." Corra smiled wickedly as her eyes once again flashed black.

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"Well that was strange…" Dean started once he got back to the car where Sam had been gathering their things.

"What?" Sam questioned, not particularly caring.

"She was totally giving _you_ the eye!" Dean grabbed up his duffle and started moving in the direction of their room. Sam stood at the trunk of the car for a minute longer. Footsteps came up from behind him. Half expecting to see Dean returning, he spun around with an exasperated look. Instead he saw Alexandria.

"Oh, sorry. I thought you were my brother." She smiled and reached her hands up into his hair, pulling his face down to hers.

"I'm _really _going to enjoy this." She whispered seductively into Sam's ear. He was about to say something until he was cut off by her mouth pressing harshly onto his own. A moment later, she stepped away and gave him a once over. "It's a shame…" She spoke mostly to herself. "You're such a handsome guy." She spun around and walked away. A deep sense of misery enveloped him as he stood, watching the dark haired woman leave.

The sense of loss and agony was crippling. It felt as if his heart was being scratched right out of his chest. He placed a hand over his heart and could feel it beating rapidly beneath his palm. All he could hear was the rush of blood as his mind was cleared. Sam felt a strong pull in the direction of the main road. His feet began carrying him before his mind caught up. Once he realized what was going on, he didn't attempt to fight it.

Alexandria must have been the demon. She must make people kill themselves. As this revelation is playing in his head, never once did Sam stop his movement. He felt the control over his limbs yet he continued on toward the traffic. _Easy_… It would be so _easy_ to just walk out and get hit by a car. Knowing how easily he could talk his own life startled him. He could faintly hear someone attempting to yell above the pumping blood behind his ears, but Sam didn't give it a second thought.

He was at the edge of the road. A large truck was barreling down the street. All Sam had to do was take a few steps into the middle and he'd be done. Done with this life that he never wanted. Before he could take another step, he thought of the person in the truck. What if he got hurt because Sam had a death wish? If the man _survived _the collision, the guilt he'd face would not be fair. He was about to turn when a pair of strong arms encircled him and threw him back into the parking lot. Dean fell on top of him, restraining his arms at his side. His emerald eyes wild with a mixture of worry and rage.

"What the _fuck_ was that about?" He panted out. Sam was out of breath too.

Sam hated the fact that he was the reason Dean was so panicked. "It was nothing. I was just…" Sam tried to come up with an excuse but came up empty. It was pretty clear his intent was to walk into the racing cars.

"Just what, Sammy? You're gonna end up killing me one day if you keep this up. I swear, I don't think I can take another panic attack." Dean's breath was shuttering in and out at an unsteady rate. "Remember, you come to _me_ if you need _anything._"

"Demon." Sam suddenly remembered. The whole reason he started heading for the street was because of the demon. "S-she got to me. Alexandria _is _Corra."

Dean rolled off Sam and stood. "What do you mean?" He seemed unconvinced.

"Call Bobby. I'm sure he'll tell you that she made people off themselves." Sam made the assumption in his head, but trusted his hunter's instincts. He'd never tell his brother that even after he figured it out, he continued on his suicide mission.

Dean set his jaw and whipped out his cell, quickly dialing Bobby's number. "Hey, it's Dean… Not yet… What does she make people do?" He listened intently to what was being said until he turned incredulous eyes down to Sam. "Damn it… She went after Sam. He tried to walk out into traffic just as a fucking semi is coming… You have to already be what? ... He's over that now… I'll talk to you about that later, okay? We know what she looks like so now we gotta gank the bitch. We'll be home soon." With that, he slammed the phone shut and held it to his forehead. "You're right. She only targets men who are already depressed or…"

Sam stood and wiped his jeans off. He kept his head low but his eyes never strayed far from Dean's face. "She couldn't have gotten far…"

His brother hesitated. He could tell he wanted to get the hell out of dodge, but the hunter in him answered. "Yeah. How did she get to you?"

"She kissed me." Sam spoke slowly, picking up on Dean's train of thought. "If she sees that I'm still alive, she'll come after me."

"No." Dean started to walk away. "We are _not_ using you as bait."

Anger welled up in Sam and before he could rein it in, he lashed out on his brother. "Yes we _are_. It is the _best _way to get this over with. Now you listen to me for once." Sam walked ahead of Dean and cut him off. "I'm going to go in our room. We'll have a devil's trap hidden. You make a show of leaving me alone and she will take the bait. Once she's stuck, I'll exorcise her."

"And where am I supposed to go? Should I lug my happy ass down the street, maybe get some coffee while my little brother battles a demon by himself? I don't think so, Sam." Dean's yelling attracted some unwanted attention, but that didn't stop him. "I am _not _leaving you."

"_Yes_ you _are._" Sam kept his voice calm. "You don't have to go far, just make sure she knows you're gone. If you double back, she _will_ know. I remember reading about these demons. They have a sixth sense and she would be able to tell if you're in the vicinity and will never come for me."

Dean seemed to struggle with that fact, but he couldn't argue with Sam's logic. "_Fine._" He said curtly as he started walking back to their motel room.

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The trap was set. A red devil's trap was painted under a shag rug in front of the bed and another in between the two beds just in case. Dean was still not keen on the idea, but it was getting late and he wanted to get this over and done with.

"You have ten minutes." Dean eyed him meaningfully.

"That's not enough time. Give me at least twenty." Sam would not divulge the reason behind his need for more time. He'd reasoned with himself that the only way to make things right would be to leave his brother. Sam could see what he was doing to him and couldn't take it. The emotion behind his brother's eyes every time he looked at him was painful. He would not be the burden in Dean's life… He'd be better off.

"_Fifteen._" With that, Dean headed out of their room. Sam never unpacked his duffle, so he would be ready to bolt once the demon was taken care of.

A few minutes after Dean left, there was a solid knock on the door. He knew that it would be Corra. Sam stood and crossed the floor, careful not to step on the rug as he opened the door to reveal the demon. Her lips were covered in red lacquer lipstick and she parted them over pearly white teeth. "Oh, Sam." She grinned. "You made it." She seemed genuinely surprised.

Deciding to play dumb, he answered her as if she wasn't some demon trying to make him kill himself. "Made it? Are you okay, Alexandria? Why don't you come in?" Sam pulled the door open more and gestured for the demon to enter. She raised her hand and let her fingers trail across Sam's chest as she passed. The rug was right beside the bed, so Sam developed a plan to get her there. Knowing she was a demon made it seem so wrong, but he didn't care. He had to get the job done. Also, the risk of kissing her again didn't help too much. From what Sam read, if the demon is sent back to hell, all afflicted will be cured.

"I saw your brother left. I didn't want you to be lonely." She removed her trench coat and let it fall to the floor, revealing black lace lingerie. Sam walked the few steps it took to get to her, placing his hands on her bare hips. Corra started to unbutton his shirt. Sam leant down and planted his lips on hers hoping that he would be able to maneuver her to the devil's trap. She locked her arms around he neck and wrenched him down to her level. Gripping her thighs, Sam pulled her legs up so she was straddling him. She continued greedily kissing down his neck as he walked over to the rug and dropped her. The demon let out a huff. "Dropping a lady is no way of getting anywhere." She stood and tried to walk back to him. Sam took two long strides back.

"You're no lady." Sam spoke as he grabbed his book from the table.

Corra's eyes flickered to black as Sam began to recite the exorcism. Her screams filled the too small motel room, but Sam did not slow. As soon as the exorcism was finished, she let out a shrill scream as the murky smoke poured from her red smudged lips and down through the floorboards. Her host's body fell limp to the floor. Sam rushed over to feel for a pulse and found none. He didn't have time to do much else except grab his things and rush out.

He stumbled through the darkness toward the parking lot, hotwiring the first car he saw. It stunk of pot and liquor. Sam rolled one of the windows just in time to hear his brother's distressed voice. "_**Sammy!**_" He whipped out of the parking lot and did not turn around. Sam was not sure where he was planning on going; he just knew that he had to leave his brother. Dean would be able to get on just fine without him. He had Bobby after all. Sam was just holding him back. He flipped on the radio to drown out the panicked hollers coming from the motel and continued on his journey to disappear.

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**So I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Please review!**


	5. Chapter 5

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Sitting in a near vacant motel in a nondescript area on the outskirts of town, Sam let out an exhausted sigh. After several hours of nonstop driving, he finally had to stop once the tank ran out of gas. He literally stopped on the side of the road, gathered his belongings and hauled everything to the first motel he saw. This motel, The Tavern Inn, was about five miles from where he pulled over. Drained of any energy he had, Sam reluctantly crawled under the threadbare sheets. His whole body quaked as shivers racked his frame. Winter winds ruffled branches outside the window, whistling through the cracks in the pane. Sam huddled himself into as small of a ball as his six foot four frame would allow and prayed for sleep. He would have tried to nab another car and continue past this ratty motel, but he could see the angry clouds churning away. Just then the bottom dropped out as hail cascaded down from the sky.

The noise was deafening as the balls of ice collided with the questionable structure of the motel. Sam listened closely to the moaning of the walls as they protested the beating they were receiving. Not for the first time that night, Sam's cell phone came alive with the ringtone his brother had programmed in. Eye of the Tiger filled the too small room as Sam's fingers spidered over the tabletop behind him, searching for his phone. Once in his grasp, he brought it close to his face and gasped. Doing a double take, he confirmed the caller ID on the phone said _DAD_. Ever so slowly, Sam flipped open the cell and brought it cautiously to his left ear.

"_Who is this?_" Sam spoke with such malice, the breath caught from the person on the other line. There was a moment of silence where only breathing could be heard. "This isn't fucking funny." He waited for another second before sitting up and letting the covers fall from his chest and pile atop his thighs.

Sam was about to hang up when he heard a distinct voice speak on the other end. He'd know this voice anywhere. "I've got 'em. He isn't far… _Sammy?_" Dean spoke softly, each syllable laced with concern. Sam clicked the phone shut and scrambled to his feet, ignoring his aching muscles. He swung his bags over his shoulders and did a frantic sweep of the room before rushing out into the storm. Earlier, Sam had seen a dark blue Toyota Matrix parked outside one of the rooms. Making his way there, he was swiftly able to break into the hatchback and hotwire it. It took less than five minutes from the second he hung up the phone to being back on the road. Though conditions were quite precarious, Sam managed to dodge the worst of the storm.

He could sense his weariness as the road became more difficult to focus on. He pressed on the radio and turned it up to earsplitting volume as a means of keeping himself awake. Why did Dean have to try and come after him? It's not like Sam was expecting any different, though he kept a sliver of hope that Dean would just realize he would be better off without Sam. He had since turned off his phone in a desperate attempt to remain untraceable. He'd have to get a new phone and change his number… Of course he had any important numbers memorized, so he would always be able to contact his brother or Bobby… They just won't be able to track _him_. With his mind set, Sam kept a steady pace heading south. Not really sure where he was going, Sam just let the road take him in any direction. If he was being honest with himself, he didn't care where he was going so long as Dean didn't find him. And if he didn't want to be found, he'd become invisible. He'd drop off the map…maybe permanently. He didn't have time to really think anything through as he was slowly losing his grip on awareness.

Sam had driven another two hours when he came across a seven eleven. Stopping briefly to fill up and snag a coffee, he got back on the road to nowhere in particular. The sun breached the horizon signaling exactly how long Sam had actually been on the run from his brother and Bobby… _My family_, Sam amended in his head. Bobby was just as much a part of his family as Dean. That thought didn't help his resolve of abandoning them. He let out a breath that he hadn't realized he was holding and noted an exit for a rest stop.

Thanking his rarely lucky stars the motel he rolled up to wasn't too sleazy, he breathed a grateful sigh. His eyelids felt like weights threatening to collapse as he drowsily made his way to the front desk, beckoning the manager with a ring of a desk bell. A small young blond rounded the corner and Sam's breath caught in his throat. She looked reminiscent of his Jessica. But having memorized her face, he spotted several differences. This woman was a significant amount shorter, even in heels and she didn't have the adorable freckle between her brows. Sam realized that he was staring as the woman shifted uncomfortably from heel to heel.

Sam shook his head from side to side. "I'm… I'm sorry." He apologized.

She tilted her head up to meet his eyes. "It's not a problem. You look dead on your feet." Sam also noticed her eyes were not the same liquid blue but instead were a deep chocolate brown.

He smirked. "Yeah… Guess I do, huh. Anyway, I need a room for a week." Sam figured he'd be able to skip out sooner if he needed to.

"King or two queens?" She questioned routinely.

"Two queens." Sam responded without thinking. It was always the answer and he felt a little pang of hurt when he realized that there would be no need for an extra bed. Before he was able to take back his previous answer, the young woman turned and grabbed two keys from behind her.

"That'll be six thirty-two and eleven cents. Will that be cash or charge?"

"Charge." Sam fished around in his duffle and pulled out a credit card before thinking twice. If Dean was desperate enough to try to trick Sam using one of his dad's old phones, he would be sure enough tracking any transactions with his card. "Actually…" He fingered through a wad of cash he'd been stockpiling and laid out the correct amount. "Cash."

She took the money without a second thought and shoved it into the cash register. "I'm Amy by the way." Amy held out a delicate hand, which Sam shook.

"Sam." He gave a half smile and departed, the extra key lonely jingling in his pants pocket.

The second he entered the room; he got to work protecting the room by laying down salt lines and hanging up protective sigils. Once his work was done and he'd double-checked everything twice, since he had a tendency towards OCD, he was finally able to relax. Sam unpacked a few things, grabbing a pair of clean boxers and sweat pants to change into, leaving his duffle open on one of the beds. He settled on taking a shower before crashing. He peeled his shirt off and tossed it in a heap on the floor as he padded into the small, but decent bathroom.

Feeling physically better, Sam returned into the main room and fell back onto one of the two beds. Thoughts swirled through his head… none of which were pleasant by any stretch of the imagination. Sam could hear his brother calling his name as he screeched out of the parking lot. He saw his coffee drop as he registered his father's crumbled body on the hospital floor. And now, since his encounter with Amy, his mind dredged up images of Jess pinned to the ceiling of their apartment bursting into flame. Sam could almost feel the tinge of the flames lick at his skin before his eyes shot open and he gasped for air. Greedily sucking in oxygen as he attempted to calm himself. He didn't realize he'd fallen asleep. Not able to calm his nerves, Sam scanned the room for some type of relief. Spotting the mini fridge, Sam rolled off the bed onto unsteady legs and crouched in front of it. Upon opening it, he saw there was a mini bar. No wonder the place was so expensive. He didn't bother reading the prices as he gathered as many liquor bottles he could in one trip and piled them onto his bed.

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In hindsight, it was probably not a good idea to drink as much as he did on such an empty stomach. Sam stumbled around, not sure exactly what he was trying to accomplish. He picked up his bag and turned it over, dumping its contents onto the opposite bed. The light caught the edge of a single razor blade, half hidden under a shirt. He wasn't sure if that was what he was trying to get or if he just happened to notice it then. Either way… drunk, depressed and alone was a stupid combination. Even _he_ knew this, inebriated as he was. Sam's arm began to twitch slightly and there was a strange feeling in his wrist that almost called out for him to attend to it. He'd had this feeling before of having a pull to his arm; the strong need to cut himself apart. Suddenly, it hit him through the layers of alcohol that muddled his mind… There was no running from Dean. Dean was nothing if not determined and he wouldn't listen if Sam tried to tell him not to follow him. There was only one way to spare Dean. To keep his brother pure and far away from Sam's plague of disaster and bad fortune, he'd have to be more _permanently_ gone.

Almost on autopilot, Sam reached for his phone to turned it on and immediately dialed Dean's number. His brother answered on the first ring, "_Sam,_ where are you? Tell me where you are right now, okay? I'm not mad, I swear… _Please._" His voice assaulted Sam's drunken senses as he held the phone away from his ear.

"D-De?" Sam slurred out. Why was he calling him again?

He could just make out a string of curses and the rumble of a car engine. "Sammy, where are you?" Dean had dropped his voice several decibels, making it bearable to listen to.

Sam had no idea where he was. "I…dunno? At Delco Inn?" He answered truthfully, trying to remember if that was the actual name of the motel he was at _now_ or if it was from the other one. "I'm tryin' to get 'way."

"Get away from _what_, Sam? And how do you not know where you are?" Dean was getting impatient with him thought there was still an edge to his voice.

"_Ev'rythin'._ Wasn't payin' attention to where I was goin'. But I need to tell you something…" Sam sobered up as much as he possibly could. "You- You're the best big brother. I mean, don't f-feel guilty."

"Sammy? What do you mean? Answer me, Sa-" Sam shut the phone on his panicky older brother, feeling a crushing weight pulling him down. He threw the small blade down and opted for the larger hunting knife. It was sharper and would do the job easier, not that the thought really concerned him. Sam sank back against the headboard, holding the knife to his scarred wrist. He wasn't sure how long he sat there, staring… It must have been a long time.

He heard a loud crack as the door was kicked in, wood splinters flying in every direction. With the shock of the noise, Sam unintentionally sliced his wrist open. Blood poured out of the wound at an astounding rate, his fingers going slightly numb.

"_Sam._" Dean's face paled as his dark green eyes bulged. He took a step forward before Sam held a hand out.

"Stop." He cautioned. Bobby stepped out from behind Dean's hulking form, eyes wide from fear.

"_No_, I'm trying to _help_ you _Sam._" Dean advanced another couple of steps and Sam brought the knife back to his wrist.

"I'm sorry, De…" Sam muttered under his breath, just loud enough for both of the other men to hear. With that, Sam dug the blade into his skin.

"_Sammy,_ _**NO!**_"

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**So I hope you liked this chapter. I'm really proud of it. Please review!**


	6. Chapter 6

Dean caught his wrist, trying to pry the knife from his fingers. Anger bubbled up inside Sam. "_**Enough!**_" With that one word, his older brother and Bobby were sent to their knees. Sam gazed in morbid fascination as his family was rendered useless at Sam's command. Strength suddenly flowed through him, making his weakness from blood loss less prominent, allowing him a few minutes to explain himself. He wasn't sure how long this would last, so he was going to be brief. "Why can't you understand that you're better off?" Sam's eyes bored into Dean's. Trying to get his point across. "Why do you try so hard to save me? Not that it matters anymore. I-I don't know why I can do this…" Sam waved his hand toward the other two men, showing how they were incapable of moving or even talking back. "It's a bad thing… Always knew I was a freak. I knew there was something wrong with me. I'm always angry or depressed… It's something that I have been living with my entire life and I am just too tired." After each blink of Sam's lids, it became harder and harder to bring them back open. "I _know _there is something wrong with me. This just proves it. I'm sorry." Sam took a couple more shaky breaths, never breaking eye contact with his brother. He couldn't even put into words how painful it was to watch his brother kneeling on the floor, the pure terror in his eyes…it was excruciating. His lips twitched with unheard screams as he agonizingly attempted to call out. To help Sam… But he was too far gone. His eyes rolled up and he let his lids shut, efficiently cutting himself off from the world and awaited his destiny.

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The second Sam's eyes shut; the pull on his body was released. Deep crimson enveloped Sam's wrist, pouring freely out of the wound and soaking into the mattress. "Sammy!" Dean pounced onto the bed beside his baby brother, searching desperately for a pulse. Feeling nothing, he placed his ear onto Sam's bare chest. He wasn't able to detect a heartbeat either. "S-Sam?" Dean grasped his shoulders and gave them a rough shake. "Sammy, please." He choked out, letting his head fall into the crook of his brother's neck. The tears held at bay made their presence known, falling freely onto Sam's shoulder. "He can't be gone… This isn't supposed to happen. _Sam._"

A rush of wind blew past him. One strong hand on his shoulder pulled his attention away from his brother's lifeless body. He looked up to see Bobby, staring dumbfounded at something behind Dean. Realizing the hand was still on his shoulder, he spun around to see a man with dark hair, and piercing blue eyes in a trench coat. "Dean Winchester." The man spoke in a deep monotone voice.

"Who the _fuck_ are _you?_" Dean placed his body in between the newcomer and his brother's body. Bobby shifted to stand near himself and Sam.

"I am an angel of the Lord. My name is Castiel." Dean rolled his eyes.

"No such thing as angels." Dean set his jaw. If there were angels, then there was a God. And if there _were_ a God, he wouldn't have let any of this happen.

"We angels do not meddle in human affairs very often. In your case… You and your brother are special. Each of you has a purpose. Without one, the other shall fall. Neither can survive without each other. I cannot bring your brother back…"

"Then _why_ are you telling me this?" Dean furrowed his brow. He was still unconvinced that this man was an angel. If there were angels, his dad would have known about them.

"I cannot bring him back, but I can turn back the hands of time. I can allow you the chance to save your brother. Sam will not remember anything that happened. You won't remember me. You will only know that something gave you another chance to save your brother. We will meet again soon." The man took a few purposeful steps forward and placed two fingers on Dean's head.

The feeling of weightlessness surrounded him. "Come on, Dean. Knock it down or I will!" Bobby's voice filtered through the copious levels of obscurity until Dean finally realized what had happened. The details after Sam had died were a bit hazy though he could still see what his brother was capable of doing quite clearly. He raised his fist out and knocked on the door. "What the hell are you doing? Now he knows we're here!" Bobby was incredulous. His eyebrows raised in shock.

"I know what I'm doing…" Dean whispered, trying to convince himself too that this was the right plan of action. "Sammy?" Dean called through the door. He tried to wipe the image of his brother killing himself from his mind. "I know you're in there. I understand what you're feeling right now… And I know how tired you must be from trying to keep up this _façade_ of being alright. You don't have to do it anymore, Sam. I-If you let me in, I can help you. It would kill me too if you hurt yourself. You may think that I'd be better off without you, but that's not the case. I know we don't say this enough, but I love you Sammy." Dean felt the tears tracing canyons into his cheeks as he waited. "Sam, _please_." After a few moments, the door creaked open. Bloodshot, blue-green orbs fixed on his own as Sam pulled the door open. He traced his brother's body, searching for injuries when he spotted a red gash on his left wrist. It wasn't too deep and could be easily patched up without stitches. Sam uncomfortably shifted his arm behind him as he stepped away from the doorway, keeping his eyes downcast. Bobby set their first aid on the table by the door and turned to shut it.

"You don't need to be ashamed of that…" Dean gestured towards Sam's wrist with a nod of his head. "It's a battle wound." Dean joked, ushering Sam over to the bed. Bobby brought some gauze and medical tape over and went to work on Sam.

"It was like you were inside my head…" Sam spoke so softly, Dean had to question whether he'd actually said anything.

"Sam. I'm not mad at you… Remember how we used to communicate when Dad was around?" Sam winced. Whether at the mention of their father or the antiseptic, he wasn't sure. "Whenever you felt like you were falling off the wagon, you'd come to one of us and we'd do whatever we could to help. Same rules still apply. Just, you come to me or _Bobby._" Bobby nodded his agreement. "I already lost Dad… I can't lose you too." Dean watched a range of emotions cross his younger brother's face until it settled on apologetic.

"I'm just so tired of it all. I wanted it to stop. Sorry…" Sam diverted his eyes to watch Bobby wrapping his wrist.

"Don't be sorry. Everyone has thought about checking out early at some point in their lives… Especially with hunters. Our job isn't ideal, but we have one thing a lot of other people don't have… And that's family. So let's make a deal." He waited until he had Sam's full attention. "I won't check out early if you don't."

"I'll kill both of you idjits if you try to do somethin' stupid." Bobby warned half-heartedly. Sam let out a deep sigh.

"I can't promise I'll be able to stop cutting. It helps me…deal. I _will_ promise you that I will come to you if I am afraid I'll do something irreversible." Sam bit his lip nervously.

"Honestly? That's good enough for me."

Dean would never forget what he'd seen before he was sent back. He knew that there was a purpose for why he'd gotten a second chance at saving his brother. The details that were crisp had faded into only a dull memory and the hazy details had vanished altogether. All he knew was he had to protect his brother. It was his job.

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**Hey guys. Sorry I took so long to post. I'm not particularly proud of this chapter, but I hope you all enjoyed the story as a whole. If you haven't read the prequel to this story, read 'Never Going to be Okay'. There is another story in the works, so please check back!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Please read the author's note on the bottom! Thanks! **

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One week. That is how long it has been since Sam had felt the crisp tinge of cool metal carving its path into his skin. Seven days. That is how long it has been since Sam gazed at the warm blood spurting to the surface of his wrist. He would be lying if he said that it had been the most difficult week of his existence, though it was certainly high up there. He'd promised his brother that he would try to cease his cutting and come to him for assistance. Sam felt like such a burden needing to go to his big brother for help with something that he should be able to handle for himself. He knew that Dean was eyeing him critically every second of every day. The pressure was becoming unbearable. Always being under the scrutiny of either Dean or Bobby. Having their pupils follow his every move. It's not that Sam was complaining about the fact that he was being cared for, not at all. He just needed his privacy. If he took a split second too long in the bathroom, there would be the pestering knocking and fumbling with the locked doorknob.

One week. That is how long it took for Sam Winchester to crack. It wasn't too difficult for him to find a relief agent. Dean and Bobby had gone through the painstaking process of ridding the house of anything that could be used as a weapon against himself. Everything was hoarded away in the panic room down in the basement. Sam knew that it wouldn't be an arduous task to simply break into the vault and gain access to any blade of his choosing, though he knew that his family kept tabs on the stockpile and would be instantly aware if something was out of place or missing.

Dean had gone to fill his baby up with gas now that he'd finished detailing her and Bobby was engrossed in a political campaign on the television. Sam took this rare opportunity of having no babysitter to find another source of salvation. He quickly slipped into the dark study. Acclimating himself to the dark, he felt his way toward the desk and twisted the switch on the small desk lamp set precariously on the edge of the mahogany table. Among a mirage of items, Sam spotted a small pencil sharpener. It was sitting innocently by the mug of writing utensils, the blade held in place by a small screw. He pocketed the non-offending item and made his way to the upstairs bathroom. Just incase anyone tried to disturb him, he reached back to lock the door before twisting the knobs on the shower until a steady stream of water battered the tub. Sam set the seat of the toilet down and perched on the porcelain bowl and made brief work of the screw, tossing it aside and allowing the small metal piece to fall into his palm. It was no longer than his thumbnail, but it would do the trick. Knowing that he might get caught, Sam decided that slicing his wrist would be hazardous. Instead he opted for his upper arm, near his shoulder. Biting his lip, he allowed the small blade to nip at his skin, teasing the tender flesh beneath it. He lost all patience with the foreplay and all but jabbed the edge into his arm, reveling in the sting. Of course he wouldn't be able to go quite as deep as he'd like seeing as though he didn't have his weapon of choice so to speak, this was more than enough. Sam allowed the blade to sink into his skin once more. His eyes blinking lethargically as he watched his fingers nimbly raking the blade across. He noted how it only looked like a small scratch, as if it hadn't even broken the skin until tiny beads of crimson bubbled up. After each swipe, he would put his thumb and forefinger on either side of the fresh cut and spread it wider.

Knocking at the door brought Sam from his thoughts. He couldn't be quite certain how long he'd been in the bathroom, so he wasn't sure if Dean had gotten home yet. "Sam?" His brother's husky voice sounded over the now cool water coming from the shower.

Sam leaned his head behind the shower curtain before responding. Knowing if he'd responded from where he was, the directionality of his voice would have been wrong and his whole story of being in the shower would have been moot. "In the shower, Dean. What?" Taking this opportunity to clean his cuts, he cupped his hand and caught some water to rinse off some of the blood.

"No shit, Sherlock. I figured by the sound…" He trailed off and Sam wondered if he'd walked away. "Bobby said you've been in there a while. I just wanted to see if you're okay?" Sam wet his face and arms before pulling the sleeve of his shirt back down and turning off the shower. He continued to make rustling noises as if he was drying off and then he pocketed the small pieces of the sharpener in his jeans.

Sam whipped the door open, letting the irritation he felt show clear on his face. "I'm _fine_, Dean." He meant for the words to come out a little more sharply than they had. Walking past Dean, he felt a firm grip settle on his wrist. "_Dean._" Sam spun around and got right in his face, letting venom drip from each word he uttered. "Don't fucking _touch_ me, man. If I say that I am fine, don't bother me. I am an _adult_, damn it. I want to be treated like one. I'm not your kid brother anymore." Dean's lips formed a tight line, but said nothing. His grip on Sam's wrist was unrelenting, causing the feeling of pins and needles to form in his fingertips. Sam took a few deep breaths to try to calm himself. "Let go." His voice was but a mere whisper. His face was turned in the direction of their room where he was planning on escaping to.

"_No,_ Sammy. Bobby said you were in there for over an hour. I don't know how you got anything from the panic room, but you need to show me your wrists. I'm not joking around, Sam." He tried to lift the sleeve up from under his grasp.

Sam was visibly vibrating, seething. Anger was boiling inside, punching around and begging to be released. "Let. Go. Of. Me." His voice was gaining volume with each word. He wasn't sure why this angered him so intensely. He knew he was tired of feeling as if he were living in a jail and having wardens Bobby and Dean watching him, but this was different. This rage, hate, all aimed at his brother of all people was unnerving.

"Sam, I am _not _letting go until you show me your-" Dean was cut off when the air shot out of his body in a sharp whooshing sound. Letting blind rage cloud his judgment, Sam had taken a step forward and tensed his arm. Keeping it straight out, palm toward Dean's chest, Sam used all his strength to shove his brother as far away as he could. The hands around his wrist were abandoned as soon as the blow came, sending Dean clear across the hall and crashing into the wall. Sam kept his arm outstretched, clenching his fingers together. Dean began writhing on the wall when suddenly, two strong arms wrapped around his body, pinning his arms to his sides. Sam knew that someone was trying to get through to him, but all he was able to hear was the pounding of his heart against his chest.

"-out of it, boy!" Bobby's voice was coming through. And just like that, the scene before him changed. He could see Dean panting on the floor, a look of terror clouding his eyes. He could feel Bobby's heart racing against his back. He felt the stinging of his cuts on his upper arms that were being clenched tightly into his frame by Bobby. Sam released a shaky breath just as his legs threatened to give out on him.

"What was that?" He murmured so softly, even Bobby couldn't hear him. His eyes pricked with tears as his breathing became more frequent and turned into small pants, mimicking his brother's. "I knew it." Sam kept his voice just below a whisper though loud enough for the other two men to hear him. "I _knew_ I was a freak."

"Sammy?" Dean gingerly got to his feet and placed a hand on Sam's shoulder. His eyes glanced back and Bobby and he gave him a small nod. The arms encircling him released and Sam found himself tumbling forward, using Dean as a means of support.

"Do you…" Sam began, sifting through his thoughts to try to understand what had just happened. "Do you think that this is what yellow eyes meant?" He dropped his voice so low, Dean had to struggle to hear it.

The air was thick with unanswered questions, voiced and otherwise. "Sam…" Sam raised his head to meet Dean's eyes. "When Dad… Before Dad died, he told me something. About you." Sam leaned himself against the wall, his eyes danced between Dean and Bobby until they settled on his brother.

"You said he never told you anything." He'd meant to sound accusatory, but his words came out strangled.

"He said that I had to take care of you. That I had to save you… And if I couldn't…" Dean's breath hitched and he bit down on his lip. "He said that I might have to _kill_ you, Sammy. And what happened just there…" He trailed off.

"Then _why _did you two keep bothering? _Huh?_ Why didn't you just let me kill _myself _and get it over with for y'all? At least _then_ you wouldn't have to feel guilty about being the ones who did it?" He practically screeched.

"I am _not _giving up on you! I'm going to find a way to save you. I don't know _what_ happened just then, but I will figure it out somehow. Bobby and I will do research and stay up all hours of the night if we have to." Bobby nodded his agreement. "We are going to figure this thing out. No one got hurt, okay? I'm fine. So lets just calm down and talk about this rationally." Dean held his hands up in a gesture that was meant to be reassuring.

"No." Sam wouldn't let his brother and Bobby get hurt because he was some sort of a freak of nature that needed to be put down. He pushed his brother aside and hopped the banister, landing proficiently on the balls of his feet and sprinted out the front door. Seeing as though they lived at a salvage yard, Sam had plenty of time to find a working car in the heaps of junk metal. He could clearly hear his brother's voice calling out for him to no avail. Sam found a car that seemed to be in working order and made quick work of breaking in and hotwiring it. He pulled out of the yard to see a stunned Bobby Singer start a chase after him before realizing there would be no point. Sam kept his foot jammed down onto the gas until he was clear of the house. He took several exits and back roads, trying to keep any sort of tail away. Sam knew what he had to do. He wouldn't be able to live if he was a danger to his family. Before he would do anything though, he had to try to save the other children like himself. Sam would _not_ let Azazel win.

**==================SPN======================**

**So a lot of you kept saying that you thought there would be another chapter since the ending wasn't very final sounding. I agree that I didn't like the ending. So I have picked this story back up and I have it going in a new direction. I really hope you like it! I might not be updating quite so often… My schedule is a mess, but I will do my best! Please review and let me know if this is worth continuing!**


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